Those Left Behind
by FirstEcho
Summary: When the Pillar of Autumn crashes on an alien ring, a SPARTAN and a technician are left behind. While Master Chief is off saving the galaxy, they only want to survive. First fic, R&R please.
1. An Angelic Awakening

Hello, readers. This is my first fic, so… yeah. I'm going to attempt to show the first game from a different angle. Read and review. Please.

Halo, its characters, locations, settings, backgrounds, need I go on, are all property of Bungie and Microsoft.

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**Chapter 1: Angelic Awakening**

_Emergency Thaw Commencing. _The voice had a soft touch to it, almost angelic in the way it was presented. It had seemed to come from a long way away, but he had no trouble hearing it. A voice without a source. A dream, for once, that didn't involve the constant horror of war. It was almost peaceful. Wait… there were no dreams in cryo. It wasn't REM sleep.

_Emergency Thaw Complete. _That was odd. The voice seemed closer, somehow, as if it were now in front of him, but all he could see was blackness. More noises, now, a faint whimpering that he could hear, though its source was still unknown. The odd thought that it could be the same source as the angelic voice came to mind, but he wasn't awake enough to wonder. Eventually, Mattew-115's eyes flickered open, but still all he could see was blackness. He found this very odd.

His mind was playing tricks on him. It must be because of the emergency thaw, the one the voice had mentioned. Where was that voice now? A hiss, and now he could see faint spots of light. Something seemed to retreat from him, swinging outwards. He leaned forward, stepping out of the cryo tube. He was still disoriented, unusual for a SPARTAN, but it wasn't in his control. Or was it?

He breathed deeply, allowing oxygen to reach his brain, and regain consciousness. There was a dull pain; his whole body seemed to hurt, before he remembered that's what happened when you went into cryo wearing anything. He could handle it. Now, the lights? He frowned, allowing the implants in his brain to switch on the flashlight in his helmet. Suddenly, he could see a small circle of dull grey wall paneling. The whimper escalated to a cry, which faded into nothing.

A quick glance around showed him what he didn't want to see: bodies, human, scattered around the chamber. There were a few scattered grunts, and even an elite, but it was obvious the battle had been one-sided. Most of the casualties looked like technicians, which made sense, considering the location. A few marines had tried to hold off the invaders, but they had obviously failed. The Chief Petty Officer bent down and retrieved the assault rifle and ammo of the nearest one.

He heard the whimper again and glanced around sharply, only seeing bodies. Then, unexpectedly, one stirred. With surprisingly quiet steps, once you considered his size and weight, Matt approached the woman, who was laid out against the bulkhead. She glanced up at him with frightened eyes, then turned and hid her head. She probably thought he was an alien, come to finish the job. He noticed the patch on her arm, she was a technician, and her rank: Petty Officer Second Class. His voice held no emotion as he spoke, "Easy, Petty Officer."

Matt saw her jerk in surprise and look up. In the darkened room, all she could see was his light, blinding her to everything else. Suddenly, a green gauntlet extended out of the darkness, and she hesitated only a second before she placed her hand in his, and allowed herself to be lifted to her feet. Now that he could see her face, he could almost easily place her Irish descent, from the short red hair and the freckles, to the stunning green eyes. Eyes that still held no little fear.

She must have recognized who, and what, he was, because she managed a shaky salute, which he promptly returned. Her words were as shaky as her hand, "Petty Officer Second Class Kasey Lynch, sir." He nodded his response; she needed no hint to know who he was. Matt glanced around again, spotting the observation theater and the doors. There was something bothering him, but he couldn't place it, so he turned back to Lynch. She seemed frozen, almost lost, in the darkness.

"Status, Lynch." His demand was curt, but not loud. He didn't want to scare her, just get her thinking again. She seemed a little dazed as she looked up at him, without response. He turned the light out of her eyes, but she remained quiet, so he went over to one of the doors. It had been damaged, so it was easy to get handholds and pry the thing open. The hall outside was as dark as the inside. The power was out.

He strode out, and heard Lynch's footsteps behind him. At least she would keep up. He continued down the hall, which was becoming brighter thanks to a fire raging ahead. He stepped around it, coming to another door. Here he had to stop, though, as another door blocked his path. He heard boots on the other side. He turned off his light, moving up to the door. His weapon was slung across his back, so he placed his helmet right up to the crack in the door.

An elite patrolled the hall, seemingly bored. Apparently he had helped take the ship, though he wondered why the elite was even there. He wondered why they were still in one piece, if they were dead in space. Were the covenant looking for something?

Moments later, the elite turned his back on the door, patrolling down the hall. Matt stepped back, and then ran though the door, knocking it open. Before the elite could even spin, he brought his fist to the alien's back. The shields flared and died, and the momentum of his blow brought his fist crashing into the spine. It cracked, and the elite fell down dead. With a quick check to make sure he was dead, the Chief pocketed both of the elite's grenades. He liked the sticky little things, and was a very good shot with them.

It took nearly an hour to get to the front of the ship, where the bridge was. There were few patrols, but entire sections were blocked, and the ship was deathly quiet. The Petty Officer with Matt trailed along, trying to recover her thoughts. She seemed like she was in shock, and wasn't divulging any of their situation. He'd have to have someone talk to her, if they ever found an officer.

Matthew stepped onto the bridge almost fearfully, wondering what he might find. There were a few bodies scattered about, but Matt ignored them and went up to the large glass window at the fore of the bridge. The first thing he noticed was that the glass was gone. The second thing he saw was the fact that they were on a planet, not above it. Now he understood; the ship was in ruins after the crash. He glanced at Lynch, but she seemed as stunned as him to be staring out the open window.

Suddenly, there was a noise behind him, like a crackling. His gun was out and scanning before he even finished his turn. Nothing but a flashing light could be seen. Wait, flashing light? Matt stepped around the tactical screen, to the AI projector. It was turned on, now, but the power was so low that he could hardly distinguish the figure floating in the place. "Cortana?" he asked, moving his head closer. This seemed to wake the Petty Officer, and she glanced quickly over.

The image solidified, as much as holograms were solid, and he could finally make out details. It wasn't Cortana. He recognized the wings and halo as belonging to the AI that had been slanted to operate the ship, before the Master Chief had come on board. Seraphim. She looked like any mundane officer of the navy, decked out in dress whites, except that her hair was longer than regs, down to her mid-back, she had large, feathery wings that disappeared off to both sides and curved back in, as if the wings were curved forward, and a halo, tilted forward and to the side.

"Status report, Sera." Matt was right down to business.

Seraphim smiled at Matt, pleased to see him. "Mattew-115, good to see you up and about." She noticed his lack of response and sighed, before speaking again, "Approximately 1 hour 46 minutes ago, the Autumn crash landed on an alien ring." Matt tilted his head at the word 'ring', and the tactical screen flickered to life, showing a recording of Installation 04. "The cause," she continued, "was a Covenant cruiser. It appears that they were waiting for us to come out of Slipspace. The ship was abandoned and Master Chief took Cortana. No one had the thought to activate me, though. Not important enough…?"

Matt waited for her to go on, and she did. "Cortana's subroutine brought us in. Losing power, I was brought online by emergency procedures. I routed what little power there was, and myself, to this station, and then woke you up." Matt now recalled the angelic voice. Apparently angelic had been the right word. He noticed that Seraphim had turned to Lynch, who was still in a state of shock. "Petty Officer Lynch, how are you faring?"

The poor girl seemed startled that she had been addressed, and answered in a voice that at least sounded better than it had before. "I'm, I'm fine. It's just, this was my first, uh, tour." It was all very traumatic, Matt could tell, for someone as unseasoned as her, this was pretty bad. He wasn't very good with people, only ever interacting with other SPARTANS, and couldn't think of anything supportive to say.

Seraphim didn't have the same reservations, however. "Well, sailor, you better get with it if you want to make it out alive." This seemed to startle Lynch into action, as her hand fell to the pistol holstered at her side. Matthew nodded thankfully, and then jumped with surprise as Seraphim disappeared. There was a flashing light next to the little chip that could carry the AIs. He reached over and pulled out the chip, sliding it into the slot at the base of his skull.

"Sorry, the power on the projector was depleted. We can go now." Matt turned to Lynch and nodded at her, she nodded back, a new determination on her face. Apparently it cheered her up that someone other than the quiet SPARTAN had made it out alive, even if it wasn't a person, per say. The two humans and their artificial friend hurried off the ship, stopping only for some field rations before heading out on a Warthog. Their goal was now painfully obvious: survive.


	2. A Taste of Combat

**Chapter 2: A Taste of Combat**

Lynch turned the hog to the left far too sharply, _again_. She didn't seem to understand how easy it was to roll a warthog, or how hard it was to keep the gun steady as he pumped a few hundred rounds into a perusing Ghost. Those things, and their drivers, were far too canny for his liking. They skirted rises in the uneven earth, blasting off a few shots of plasma whenever they had a shot.

Back to the task at hand, Matt grimaced and turned on Lynch. He was about to say something about her driving, when he noticed something above them to the front. 12 o'clock high, as it went. The thing specifically, was purple, glowed, and shot streaming rivers of plasma at them. Banshee. Lynch swerved wildly to the right, just in time to avoid a 'missile', a fuel-rod, ONI called them.

The resulting explosion kicked the jeep up onto its right two wheels, where it remained for an impossibly long time before settling again. Matt, who had been busy not falling off, finally turned the chaingun on the flyer. It didn't take much to knock that particular bird out of the air. With another grimace, he spun back toward the Ghost and pulled the trigger. The driver of the Ghost was protected by the front of the machine, so the rounds glanced off the frontal armor.

The fronts of those craft were tough, but they were exposed from any other direction. It didn't matter, though, because he was forced to simply fire on the front of the cursed vehicle. Several plasma shots glanced off the shield mounted on the chaingun, and several more were repelled by his energy shield. Finally the Ghost, and the elite, were gone, in a satisfying explosion. Debris were scattered over the land, and Lynch pulled the warthog to a stop.

Matt gave her a curious glance, letting go of the gun and crouching. He had only ever seen marines in combat, but the rookies always seemed to act like, well, like her. Her hands were clenched to the wheel, so tightly he could see her hands turning white. Her face was pale, blood drained, and her breathing was heavily elevated. She was staring straight ahead, almost unblinking. After disabling his external speakers, he conferred with Seraphim. "Sera, what's wrong with her?"

"Matthew-115, I thought you had fought alongside marines before. She is reacting to stress, with elevated adrenaline. Her heartbeat is increased deliver the oxygen and adrenaline to all parts of the body, but especially the brain. She is consuming extreme amounts of oxygen, and may be hyperventilating." Seraphim spoke with an almost teacher-like voice, pleased to be able to help the SPARTAN with his dilemma. The SPARTANS were awkward people, and it tickled her circuits to see him learning something other than combat.

"Petty Officer Lynch." Matt said, quietly. He didn't want to startle her, and he was unsure how she would react in her current state. "Calm down. It's over." He tilted his head slightly to the side, more on instinct and mimicry than a planned action.

"Sorry, sir." She said, breathless. Her hands suddenly released from the wheel, almost a spasm, and she curled them to her chest. Matt could guess they were cramping, simply from the way she held her hands. Finally, the SPARTAN had a good idea.

"Why don't you get some sleep? I'll take the wheel for a while." A quick glance around showed him all he needed to know: there were no Covenant around. No one would have to man the gun. He glanced back at Lynch, who looked a little relieved, but had an expression that Matt couldn't read.

"I don't think I'll get much sleep…" Lynch said, glancing at the passenger seat next to her. The sun was shining, it was hot, and the jeep would be bouncing over all sorts of obstacles. While any SPARTAN could sleep like that, they wouldn't, considering that they were in enemy territory. But the sailor, who had never been in any kind of combat, wasn't a SPARTAN. She needed sleep.

Finally, she nodded, and slid her way into the passenger seat, ducking carefully under the cross bar. Matt slid into the driver's seat without even touching the ground. While he was more than a little big for the seat, he still managed to fit so that he could control their speed and direction. Good enough.

Matthew-15 spared one last look at Lynch before placing his foot on the gas pedal. The jeep started slowly, but had a surprisingly high top speed.


	3. Not Quite Human

**Chapter 3 – Not Quite Human**

It sounded like there were half a dozen jeeps going into the hills, just as Matthew and Lynch entered it. Instinctively, he opened a channel, but before he said anything, he took a look around. There were no other jeeps around. With an angry sigh, the link clicked off. He shook his head slightly, looking forward again.

Seraphim was there, responding to his actions. She was acting more like a psychologist these last few hours than a tactical AI, but that was because she was a 'smart' AI. They always had quirks, but she seemed almost useless in combat. He wouldn't admit that, though. Matthew was more than happy to have here there, alone with Lynch. He would have no idea on how to act around her.

"What…?" Her voice was frustrated. Matthew knew she had been trying to get his suit's long-range radio up and running, but she hadn't been able to get any human channels. There were several alien channels, and Seraphim had been trying to break the encryption. Matthew didn't know how she could look for humans, decode alien transmissions, and pay attention to him at the same time.

But he had to answer, so he did. Without hiding his frustration, he said, "Echoes. Off the hillsides." Seraphim paused a second to listen, then heard the same noises he had heard before. She didn't answer at all, though, just going back to what she was doing before. Matthew glanced over at Lynch, who was looking at Matthew with curiosity, and he could tell she had thought he was talking to her. Without admitting his fault, Matthew nodded ahead and to the right. There was a small outcropping of rocks against a hillside, and he could tell it would be a good place to stop for the night. He bet they could keep going, but Lynch had been right, and hadn't gotten a wink in at all.

With the sun half hidden behind Threshold, the planet Installation 04 orbited, shadows were being cast, and it soon appeared it would be dark. Resting for the night would do Lynch good, and Matthew was getting tired of driving. He could do it as long as he needed, but he didn't have to like it. "We can stop there, get some rest," he said, slowing the jeep as they passed into the outcropping. Five large rocks protruded from the ground, with several smaller ones providing more cover. He parked the jeep snug between two rocks, so that a Banshee flying overhead would really have to look for it.

Lynch and Matt got out, bringing their weapons and rations with them. One rock was at such an angle as to provide a roof, with two smaller rocks positioned easily as seats. It almost appeared to be designed for people to sit at, but there were other things on Matt's mind. With practiced movements, he reached up and broke the airtight seal that kept his helmet attached to his suit. There was almost carelessness in the way he dropped the helmet to the ground, but that was because he was sure it wasn't going to break. If it did break, it wouldn't help him in combat.

Matt ran a hand through his closely cut hair, letting his hair get a break from constantly being pressed down. He didn't like the feeling of air against his face, the way his motion sensor and the rest of his HUD was not there. He also knew that it would only take one shot to bring him down, and there was no way to describe how that made him feel. He glanced over at Lynch, who was looking at him strangely. "Yes?" Matt asked, quietly.

Lynch sat back, slightly put off. "There, it just… You SPARTANS, I never…" Her voice faded off. By this time, Matt was curious. He didn't really know how the marines thought about SPARTANS, except that ODST generally disliked them and the regulars were in awe. Finally, though, she finished her thought. "I just wondered that you were human. You don't… you seem like something different. As alien as the Covenant." Matt almost took that as an insult, but after thinking about it, had to decide she was right.

Well, she wasn't exactly right. She called him an alien. He called himself a robot. That was what he was. A weapon, a smart gun with legs. He had so many augmentations, so much training from such a young age, he was no longer human. It was a depressing thought, and the camp went quiet. Is was almost a minute later when Matt reached for one of those nutrient bars that tasted bad but fed you well. While Lynch had one, Matt had three, and so felt guilty. If he kept that up, he'd starve them both too early.

The sun was completely eclipsed by Threshold, and Matt looked up to see that stars. Far overhead, a covenant cruiser flew overhead, scouting the crash site of the Autumn. Lynch curled up on the coat she had been wearing. The shirt she had on underneath was a black t-shirt, one that accentuated her well, but Matt didn't even think about that. His training had made him better than that, or worse, if you considered normality to be the best way to think. When he was sure she was asleep, he stood, placing his helmet back on. Seraphim was thankfully quiet, not commenting on the conversation he and Lynch had just gone through. With motion sensor on as high as it could go, he snuck around behind the rocks, scanning for contacts. A banshee patrol flew overhead, about half a klick out, just close enough for him to see with magnified view. If they were searching for him, they were going in the wrong direction. It was a good thing, too.

Seraphim interrupted his thoughts, though, with her usual calm voice. That made Matt happy; she wasn't worried about their problems, so she had good news. "Reviewing images taken from when the Autumn was in orbit, I have found an alien structure about 60 klicks north of here, easily reachable tomorrow. Radio chatter says a small marine squad, Fireteam November, is holed up in there. They believe they will be attacked by the Covenant, and they could really use your help."

Matt nodded, staring off into the distance. Finally, he would be doing something he was good at.


	4. So Much For Exposition

**Chapter 4**

The sound of plasma, a very distinct sound, could be heard from far off. It seemed to fill the air, even over the other oppressive sound of the 'Hog's engine. Or, worse, the oppressive silence. Matthew didn't show any outward signs of his feelings, a cocktail of worry, excitement and every feeling in between. On the surface: nothing. Not even Seraphim noticed the way his eyes constantly flickered over the horizon, even more than they should have been. The Banshees, or even Spirits, would give the Covenant forces away long before Matthew and Lynch got close.

"There." The word, coming suddenly from the soft-spoken technician, almost startled Matthew. He glanced up sharply, cursing himself for allowing him to lose focus. It hadn't been long, not long at all, and yet, here he was, losing control. If he was completely honest with himself, his control had been slipping for years, ever since his mission on the UNSC _Artemis_. Well, that was history, and he had to get his mind in the now.

Now that Matt was looking, however, he could see the flashes of blue light that could only mean one thing. Matt leaned harder on the gas, cast a glance down at the fuel gage, and readied himself for the fight to come. He had to be prepared, be the SPARTAN that he was. Think, SPARTAN. "Lynch, take the wheel," Matt ordered, not even waiting for her to answer before stopping the Warthog and sliding out, quickly climbing up behind the large gun loaded with the scarce supply of ammunition. He knew that they wouldn't have much ammo left, and with the fuel level, this was going to be the 'Hog's last ride. At least it would go down in glory.

After Lynch had begun their approach, Matt could better see the structure. It was a tall building, thick near the bottom but thin near the top. The building had the shape of a square horseshoe, like a rectangle missing one end, from this angle, he could only partially see the open end, but it seemed to him that the only way into the building had to be from that direction, which explained why that was the direction of the Covenant's attack. A ledge did run all the way around the building, but too high to be accessible. It was the perfect fortress.

There, now he could see better the enemy vehicles, and the small streaks of light that represented UNSC return fire. That was good; it meant the group hadn't yet died. On the other hand, a pair of banshees, three ghosts, and a wraith still stood between Matt and the marines. With amazing accuracy, he opened up the LAAG chaingun on the banshees, the biggest threat that he could actually do something about. Not that the wraith wasn't a threat, but by the time he destroyed the thing with his machine gun, those flyers would have his 'Hog torn to shreds.

One went down quickly, even from the range of about three hundred meters, but the second one saw his partner drop and began avoiding the shots, spinning so that it was facing the jeep. Because most of the armor was located on the front, his attack was a lot less effective, giving the banshee time to fire. And it did. He was jerked to the side as Lynch sweved, avoiding the hail of plasma fire that had begun. Only a corner of his mind registered that the wraith had turned, and was now settling its sights on the warthog.

With his target aligned again, he pulled the trigger, the shower of bullets finally inflicting critical damage. The small purple vehicle spiraled out of the sky, but Matt didn't have time to enjoy the view, as he was once again thrown to the side from Lynch's wild maneuvers. She acted just in time, as a large blob of plasma crashed down behind them, close enough for Matt's shields to flare for a moment. The warthog pitched up on to the front two wheels, then crashed back to the ground. No time to be thankful, though, as the three ghosts now vectored toward the incoming warthog.

From the structure a single spot of light emerged, trailing lazily in the direction of the Covenant forces. It intersected with the trailing Ghost, its operator never even seeing what hit him. An explosion marked the moment of impact, and Matt almost smiled under his helmet. Sometimes, marines weren't a burden. Only sometimes. Lynch swerved again, a habit that was getting on Matt's nerves.

The so far long range battle turned short range, as the two ghosts opened up on the jeep, forcing Lynch to duck as plasma melted the window shield. Matt quickly fired on the ghosts, causing them to scatter, and he turned right to track the leader. The alien was good, though, skillfully avoiding his shots. With nothing to warn him, there was an explosion to his left, loud but distant. It wasn't enough to distract the SPARTAN, but it was enough to distract his alien foe, who went down after only a moment of hesitation.

Before he could orient himself to the last Ghost's location, three flashed lit up his shielding. A soft beeping erupted in his head as his shield reported that it was low, dangerously low. As fast at the gun swiveled, Matt turned, pulling the trigger long before he was even aligned with the alien. Two more shots of plasma, but both of those hit the shield mounted on the turret, and his gun finally aligned on the target. Bullets plowed into the front of the Ghost, but he was running low on ammunition and the thing was armored.

Matt trained his weapon on one of the little wings the purple hovercraft had, blowing it off quickly. The craft swerved as one of its stabilizers suddenly stopped working, enough so that Matt could actually see the pilot. The alien was only a grunt, and it took three rounds to kill off the little alien. It would have been more, but at that moment, his gun stopped firing. Without bothering to rotate the turret, he turned to see if the Wraith was still attacking. It was a shock to see that the Wraith was so much scrap; a pleasing shock.

Though all the enemies in the area had been eliminated, he still didn't relax.


End file.
